


The Lion Deception

by pansypxrkinson



Series: New Perspective [1]
Category: Harry Potter - Fandom, Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: 8th year, An excuse to admire Harry Potter because reasons!, Drabble, Fluff, M/M, Mild Angst, Pining Draco is the best Draco!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-05
Updated: 2016-05-05
Packaged: 2018-06-06 14:22:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,041
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6757687
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pansypxrkinson/pseuds/pansypxrkinson
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He wanted to do the inexplicable. The unmentionable. Taboo.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Lion Deception

From this particular vantage point, Draco could see why Potter was a Gryffindor.  
Draco was in the library, clandestine, working on his Defence Against the Dark Arts homework. To his constant shame, it was his weakest subject. After the war, Draco decidedly knew much about the Dark arts themselves but piteously less about how to defend himself against them. As characterised by his recent paralysing fear whenever so much as a lip-lock jinx was uttered in his vicinity, Draco had decided that he desperately needed the practice.

So here he was. Sunken into a plush purple beanbag in a secluded section of the 'Philosophy of Magic' division of Hogwarts library. He was comforted by the gentle flicker of the candle he had conjured, and the sweet scent of honey against the musky sharpness of cinnamon drifted from the spelled candle immersing him in its warmth. He was completely contented.

Except there was Potter.  
Ever the thorn in his side, he made the honey taste sickly and the cinnamon too potent as it clamoured in his throat and set fire to his nostrils. Even the candle's flickering seemed to linger ominously before it would flash at him aggressively.

Draco rubbed his tired eyes.

He'd been reading the same word twice. In fact, it seemed as if it weren't even a word anymore. The letters jumbled and twisted around one another. They danced along his pupils mercilessly as he blinked.

Stupid Potter was great at Defence. What did Draco have? Harry Potter had saved everyone arses. His at least twice, and Merlin knows how many more the Gryffindor had tucked under his belt, ready to flash out at the most opportune moments, drowning Draco in guilt.  
Stupid Potter. He bet he wouldn't even blackmail Draco. That would be too logical, too Slytherin. That was even more sickening as Draco couldn't even resent him.

Yes, Potter had it all. He almost entirely resembled his house mascot. Potter was lion all over. Perhaps he was an animagus? Just another thing he could do to make the rest of the world feel dreadfully inferior.

His hair was a mane of not-quite curls which licked and curled from his nape outwards like he was in a permanent state of explosion. Like a potions experiment had blown up in his face, and he'd never bothered to fix his hair. 

Potter had small ears though. They didn't protrude, they merely sat in place, obedient. Perhaps shy of the mess of black atop Potter's head.

From where he was sat, Potter gave a yawn. Drowsy, like a sleeping lion. All that dangerous potential. That power. It had the virulence to make Draco's blood boil in his veins, and a sweet giddiness approach him.

He had neat teeth. A few near the front sharp, the rest flat, cleanly cut and even. They were a dull white, like tousled sheets, tainted cherry red as Potter sucked at the sugar quill he was holding. 

His skin too, was dusty like a lions. A sandy, unassuming colour. It went a golden brown in the sunlight.  
Potter looked great in the sunlight. Even his hair was redeemed by its glow, the strands appeared almost pearlescent. Hints of green would emerge, like a raven's feathers. They matched his eyes.

Draco was never favoured by the sun's harsh stare. It bore into him until it washed him out. His paleness under the sun pinked his skin and faded his colours, a mere watercolour he was. Draco felt he had always lacked vibrance. 

Potter was chewing on his sugar quill. Who even does that? His teeth cracked the crystalline shell with a soft crunch. A break in the boisterous silence of the library. His lips were blood red and murky. The burgundy tint of the confection had blurred the edges of his mouth, giving him a rather wide and pearly grin. Draco wondered if his tongue would be purple.

Like a lion feasting on its prey. Potter took no mercy on Draco. He continued, oblivious to the way Draco's heart caught in his throat. Potter was the only one who could make him burn.

Then Potter looked up. His eyes. Potter's eyes were no lions. They weren't small set, nor beady. They were serpentine. Twin jewels. Vibrant green circled the deep onyx pupils. Smooth lines and curves set them about his face. There was nothing marring it except the slight crinkle that marked its presence when Harry Potter smiled those smiles that Draco never would see.  
It was an observation.  
Not a lamentation.  
Why would Draco want Potter to smile at him anyway?

Potter's green eyes were almost triangular. Rich and reminiscent of the green fires which Pansy used to charm in the Slytherin common room for parties.

The pupils were large, now defined by the harsh light of the library, and Draco noted that Potter's irises too showed hints of unexpected colour.  
There were dashes of orange and blue. Draco wished he would-

Potter was still staring at him. He'd discovered Draco's partially concealed hideout. Potter blinked at him.  
A redness seemed to bloom in his cheeks, charming against the dusky gold. Potter was like a sky in the sweltering summer time at dusk. It made Draco feel warm yet smothered by a sickliness that chilled his bones.

Potter removed the quill self consciously from his still open mouth. It dragged along his bottom lip, leaving a trail of moisture, like a fat dew drop as it sidled down the curved petals of a rose in the early morning.  
They continued to stare at one another. Draco's eyes flicked down upon smudged lips. He wanted to do the inexplicable. The unmentionable. Taboo.

Potter picked up the quill again and placed it back into his mouth. It quivered fearfully in his hands as he crushed it between forceful teeth, his eyes still trained on Draco.

It shattered, along with Draco own will power and he toppled from his beanbag as ungraciously as a flightless swan, defence forgotten. Draco clamoured his way to his feet and swiftly left. His steps felt heavy as the scent of honey and cinnamon was extinguished and replaced with the smokey hiss of the snuffed candle. 

Draco tasted salt on his own trembling lips.

**Author's Note:**

> Just a little drarry drabble I wrote whilst in desperate need of a sugar rush! Enjoy x


End file.
